


Courtship Rituals

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Series: Flying High [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Wings, Bird Courtship, Bird/Human Hybrids, Courting Rituals, Courtship, Cupcakes, Dancing and Singing, Established Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, F/M, Fluff, POV Felicity Smoak, Pink Hair Highlights, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Tension, Wing Grooming, Winged Oliver Queen, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 01:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19031938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: The five times Felicity courted Oliver accidentally and without realizing it... and the one time she did it entirely on purpose.Another fic with winged!Oliver in the Flying High universe, this time with strange courting tactics, persistent sexual tension, and a boatload of confusion for Felicity.





	Courtship Rituals

**Author's Note:**

> this has been a long time coming!! a lot of you have asked for a fic about the courtship rituals between oliver and felicity in this verse, and i thought it would be funny to write a fic in felicity's perspective about all the ways she ends up courting oliver without realising it lol.
> 
> massive thanks again to masque for allowing me to play in her sandbox. this universe is honestly one of my favorite ever xx

_**Excerpt: An Ethological Study into the Courtship and Breeding of Avian Species** _

_In most avian species, the male counterpart of a breeding pair will undertake the main courting rituals to attract and indulge his female of interest. However, it is important to note that in some genera, females have been observed to court males in unique patterns._

…

_Females will molt and change the consistency and color of their feathers, similar in a way to a male adopting breeding plumage. Nest-formation is another common courting tactic. Female birds of paradise in the Philippines respond to male advances with classic rituals of singing and dancing, particular to their species, so cross-breeding does not occur. It has also been discovered that female raptors will hunt and provide food to the males they are courting while the male guards and patrols his territory. Both male and female counterparts of a breeding pair will preen and groom each other’s wings, to clean each other and protect from parasites, although with the exception of waterfowl, the female is normally more receptive to this treatment._

…

_Lastly, the most vital courting ritual in which a female can participate is the issuing of an invitation to their male to join them in their nest. This is commonly observed in bird species that mate for life. This journey can be perilous, but is a signal to the male that the female has accepted their courtship and is willing to breed. It is known in some ornithological circles as a ‘maiden flight’._

* * *

**1: Haircut and Highlights**

“Behold, your nerd in shining armor has arrived!”

As Felicity announces her arrival, happily descending the metal staircase into the dimly lit Foundry, her gaze immediately finds her two boys, who are both preparing for their team movie night. Diggle is laying out blankets and pillows from the winged vigilante’s nest on top of the training mats, which have been dragged in front of Felicity’s monitor set-up.

Oliver is kneeling in front of the largest monitor, flicking through Netflix to add movies to their queue; his huge wings, currently in their mating plumage with dark green feathers and iridescent silver tips, are tucked comfortably to his spine. They ruffle, however, when he turns to greet her with a smile. Felicity’s pun is due to the fact that she comes wielding two jumbo bags of popcorn, one sweet for her and Dig to share, and one salty with extra butter, because Oliver is a heathen who doesn’t like nice things.

“We were wondering when you were gonna show up,” Diggle teases her. “You’re ten minutes late.”

“Hey, I’m usually early.” Felicity rolls her eyes, sweeping her loose blonde hair behind her shoulders as she drops the popcorn bags onto the counter. She ducks down to press a warm kiss to Oliver’s forehead, and snickers at the slight saltiness of his skin - he’s been working out again, evidently. “This one is the tardy one.”

She expects him to retort snarkily that at least he’s organized - she’s perhaps one of the most unorganized people on the planet, she practically never knows what’s going on with her life anymore beyond work and Oliver - so is perplexed when Oliver remains silent. Felicity tilts her head, peering down at him. The vigilante stares up at her with brilliantly blue, wide eyes, imitating a feathered deer in the headlights.

“What’s up?”

“You changed your hair,” he says to her simply.

“I did, thank you for noticing,” she responds, pleased at his attention.

She got it cut earlier in the day, several inches off the ends so her hair falls to her shoulders now in a mixture of waves and curls. Her hairdresser said that it helped frame her face and glasses better. It’s still long enough to pull back into a ponytail or bun if she needs to, but it’s much more manageable now. She also got pink highlights on her tips. She likes it - she wonders if Oliver and Diggle do, as well.

The vigilante’s unreadable expression makes it hard to judge what he thinks of the new haircut, but his wings, ever the emotional expressors, give him away. His primaries twitch curiously, and the wings themselves arch and spread ever so slightly in a way that makes Oliver appear more open and friendly. He’s receptive - listening.

“Do you like it?” she decides to ask, because he’s still confusing her.

“I think it looks great,” Diggle pipes up from where he’s getting them drinks from the fridge. “Haven’t seen you with short hair before, but it really suits you, Felicity. And the pink is awesome.”

“Thanks, Dig. Oliver?”

“You… changed it,” Oliver repeats.

Why is he having such a hard time processing this? “Yes, I did.”

“Does it… matter if I like it?”

Felicity blinks, not knowing exactly how to respond to that. “Well - of course it does. You’re my courting partner - by all technicalities, my boyfriend - so it would be nice to know what you think about it.”

Oliver’s wings _rustle_. His primary feathers flicker, making the silver edges of his extra two limbs ripple in a movement that Felicity has never seen before, but it leaves her breathless due to how beautiful it is. Without saying anything, he offers his hand to her, a hopeful expression on his face. Felicity takes it, still bemused by his reaction, and smiles when Oliver rearranges himself so he’s sitting on the mats and she can slot himself between his legs. Settling down so her back is pressed to her front, Felicity relaxes when the winged archer’s arms wrap around her waist protectively.

Resting his chin on her shoulder, he presses a gentle, chaste kiss to the edge of her ear, murmuring, “I love your new hair,” while beginning to comb through it with his lithe fingers. His fingertips massage into her scalp, making Felicity release a quiet moan of pleasure.

"Oh, that feels good," she mutters.

"Yeah?"

"Mm hmm."

Oliver laughs softly and lowers his hands from her neck to begin kneading the sore muscles in her neck and shoulders. "Happy to be of service." After a moment, he adds, “Thank you. For changing your hair. Diggle's right. It looks amazing.”

Felicity remains bewildered by how serious and intense Oliver has made the moment, but responds, “Thank you. And... you’re welcome?”, and elects not to think on it anymore. They have movies to watch, after all.

And Oliver's hands, with all their callouses and strength from drawing and firing his bow, are miraculous at working the tension out of her shoulders.

He's certainly very talented with them.

* * *

**2: Lair Upgrade**

“I think my head might implode if have to deal with this disaster of a monitor set-up for one more day.”

Felicity lies on her back on top of one of the training maps, peering up at the mess of wires and leads and god knows what else that’s accumulated underneath the computer desks in the Foundry. Some of her software began glitching last night - while Oliver was out on patrol, which was pretty bad news - so she’s been working on fixing the hardware problems that apparently caused the software ones all morning. Except nothing she’s done has made much of a difference - this tech Oliver has in his lair is just too outdated for her to do basically anything with it.

Oliver, who has been sitting cross-legged by her hip and providing tools whenever she asks for them, puffs his wings out indignantly. They block out some of the light Felicity has been using to examine the wiring, so she slides out from under the desk with a scowl, patting the ruffled feathers down.

The winged vigilante does not, however, snipe back at her about it being _her_ monitor set-up that she’s so unhappy with. Instead, he just shoots her a genuinely accommodating look and asks her, “What do you need?”

“Money,” she replies. “I would give you a list of the specific processors and units, but it’s not exactly as if you can go out and buy them, Oliver. And I don’t make a big enough salary to purchase precisely what this set-up is going to need. Wait - do you even have money to -”

“I’ll have funds transferred over into your personal account by tonight,” Oliver tells her, cutting her off as he helps her to her feet. His wings spread and flutter lightly to help him lift her weight, and Felicity tries not to stare as light reflects off his dark feathers in the form of rainbows. “Just let me know if you need more.”

Felicity is absolutely astounded that evening when she gets home to find ten thousand dollars has dropped unceremoniously into her account. It’s a ridiculous amount of money, but if that’s what Oliver is really willing to let her spend on a new set-up for the Foundry, then Felicity is going to buy the best tech she can possibly get her hands on.

She orders the monitors, processors, and units she wants and needs, and since she has money left over after all of that, orders some more custom equipment that she thinks Oliver will find useful. All of the transactions are done anonymously of course, and she arranges for non-descript pick-ups from a neutral location in the Glades.

Everything arrives over the next week, and she keeps everything stored in their boxes at the very back of the Foundry, out of Oliver’s sight. She tells him to keep his paws off the new stuff because he might break it, and to her surprise, he reluctantly listens to her.

When a quiet Saturday night comes around and Oliver announces he’s going to head to the local National Park to fly, Felicity practically shoves the vigilante out of the Foundry, telling him not to come back for a good five hours. It only takes her and Diggle four hours to change the entire set-up of the Foundry, install the new equipment and load up the systems, and Oliver remains out for six hours, but at least he doesn’t ruin the surprise for himself.

His jaw drops and he peers around with eyes as round as plates, taking in the floodlights, shining metal cabinets, weapons racks, and computer system. Felicity can tell Oliver’s elated by the way his wings get all fluffy and jerky, giving tiny flaps whenever his excitement becomes too much for him to contain. She guides him around the newly arranged space, showing him what she’s changed and how everything works.

At the end of the tour, Oliver sweeps her into a hug, not just wrapping his arms around her but also encasing her in his wings. She trails her fingers through his soft, downy coverts as they embrace, enjoying the faint vibration she feels the vigilante emit from his chest as he purrs like a contented panther. When he finally pulls back, Oliver appears overwhelmed by his feelings - but the biggest emotion on his face is pure unadulterated gratitude.

There’s a faint tremor in Oliver’s voice as he asks, “You really did all of this for me?”

“Not just for you. For us,” Felicity corrects kindly. “But most of it is for you, yes. This whole place is like your den, and it was getting a bit run down. Hopefully now things will be a lot more efficient down here.” She grins when she sees Oliver’s wandering, awed eyes settle on the potted plants decorating some of the metal tables. “I thought the place could use a little sprucing. They’re ferns - they thrive on low light, and are low maintenance. And I bought some new memory foam pillows for your nest. Will make it comfier. I wasn’t sure if memory foam would be a good pick considering you can’t really lie on your back with your wings but - oh!” She’s cut off when Oliver crashes into her torso to yank her into another hug. “Oh. This is… this is nice.”

He leans back to cup her face. His thumbs are calloused and warm against her cheeks, and Felicity finds herself resting the weight of her head into his dominant hand. “Thank you,” he says, emphasizing the words to make sure that his appreciation gets across. “Thank you.” Kissing her forehead, the vigilante allows his lips to linger for a moment. The blonde shudders at the feeling of his hot breath dancing over her skin. “You’re remarkable, Felicity.”

She’s moved by his gratefulness, and runs her hands down his chest in a gentle, fond motion. “Thank you for remarking on it.”

* * *

**3: Song and Dance**

“Alone in the Foundry once again…”

Felicity pushes her chair back from the monitor set-up, leaning back and stretching out with a tired sigh. Her boys are upstairs, sparring on the roof of the old steel factory while it’s dusk, before the darkness of the night falls upon them. Oliver has been training to incorporate his wing movements into his hand-to-hand combat style, but the space in the Foundry where he and Diggle usually spar is far too cramped considering his wings are thirty feet in span. They did try and train there at the start, but quickly realized that Oliver was wrecking everything, sweeping equipment off cabinets and knocking over the arrow racks. Felicity banished them to the roof when Oliver very nearly sent her computers crashing to the floor.

Now, she’s working by herself, constructing a new algorithm she’ll be able to use to access a constant stream of data from SCPD servers without needing to hack their systems every day.

Felicity is waiting for a set of code she’s just written to compile and as a result, she is very, very bored. There’s the persistent _drip, drip, drip_ from the back of the Foundry from the leaking pipes providing water; the sound’s drilling into her brain. She needs something - anything, really - to distract herself.

“You know, Oliver could have killed you,” she pats her keyboard and strokes her fingertips over the edge of the screen of her biggest monitor. “Big bad vigilante with his huge wings might have ruined this set-up, only a week after I bought and put you together for him.” Felicity pauses and winces, thinking over her words. “Yeah, probably not a good thing that I’m talking to myself… talking to my computers. But hey, Oliver talks about himself in third person all the time, so this isn’t really that bad, right?”

Tapping through her program, the song _Demons_ by Imagine Dragons pops into her head, and absentmindedly, she begins humming the melody under her breath. 

_When you feel my heat_  
_Look into my eyes_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_Don’t get too close_  
_It’s dark inside_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_It’s where my demons hide_

Felicity is standing and swaying her hips from side to side before she even realizes what she’s doing. Finding the song on her phone, she begins playing it aloud so she can listen and sing along. Snapping her fingers, she continues dancing a little for her own amusement.

_They say it's what you make_  
_I say it's up to fate_  
_It's woven in my soul_  
_I need to let you go_  
_Your eyes, they shine so bright_  
_I want to save their light_  
_I can't escape this now_  
_Unless you show me how_

Felicity throws her arms up in the air and completes a twirl at the end of the bridge, ready to begin belting out the chorus again, but yelps and trips over air when she sees that Oliver is leaning against a pillar behind her, watching her intently.

“Oh my god!” she squeaks, once she’s righted herself. “A warning would have been nice, Oliver!”

The vigilante’s lips twitch as if he’s fighting back a smile, but his wings expose how amused he is by ruffling and rising up ever so slightly, flaring and tucking in minuscule movements. “I did clear my throat, but you didn’t hear me,” he informs her. “I’ll make sure I announce myself in a more obvious manner next time. Having fun?”

Felicity narrows her eyes at him. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Is that your way of asking me how much of all of - ” he motions with his hand, “- _this_ , I saw?”

“Just answer the question, Oliver,” she splutters, her cheeks burning.

“Since you started playing the song on your phone.”

She groans, feeling thoroughly humiliated. Oliver seriously stayed and watch her sing and dance for a good three minutes, without saying anything. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

Chuckling, Oliver slips up to her, his movements sleek and fluid as he steps into her space and his hands fall onto her waist lightly. His wings billow out around them in a half-cocoon, making their closeness seem even more intimate. Felicity ends up leaning back against the monitor set-up for support with the vigilante looming above her, and her breath hitches as she watches Oliver’s eyes flicker over her, dark and heated. Biting her lip, she tries not to concentrate on how their hips are anchored together, and how if Oliver just sinks his weight into her a little more, he’ll be standing between her knees and have her sprawled out on the desk. A coil of desire twists in Felicity’s lower abdomen at the thought.

“Actually, I thought it was cute,” Oliver murmurs to her, his voice lowered. “I liked watching you dance, and listening to you sing.”

“You did? Because my singing is terrible. I’ve been told I can make ears bleed.”

“Hmm, well, my ears aren’t bleeding…”

Felicity closes her eyes when Oliver bends over to nuzzle into her neck, and nearly stops breathing entirely when his hot lips glance over her pulse point in a kiss. Only her vigilante would find her awful singing to be attractive. His lips continue a path over her shoulders, leaving crackles of heat behind. Oh god. As much as Felicity is enjoying this, she really hopes Diggle doesn’t come back in and find them in this precarious position. That poor man has walked in on them getting handsy with each other on too many occasions.

“I _really_ liked it,” Oliver whispers, his tone deep and rich as his feathers puff up even more. “You’ll have to dance and sing for me more often.”

She tilts her head, confused. “I wasn’t exactly doing it _for_ you -”

Felicity doesn’t get to finish her sentence because the next thing she knows is that Oliver is kissing her.

Within seconds, she’s forgetting about her singing and dancing completely.

* * *

**4: Cupcakes**

“So you know how I told you that I’m shit at cooking?”

Oliver glances up from where he’s seated cross-legged on the training mats as Felicity enters the Foundry from the back entrance. Felicity raises an eyebrow when she sees that he’s halfway through a grooming session - that she really should have been invited to, considering she’s his courting partner, feather guardian and molt companion - and straightening out twisted feathers on the insides of his wings. Shifting the white cardboard box she’s carrying in her arms, Felicity motions with her head for him to stand and join her at her computer station.

“Please don’t tell me you cooked,” Oliver replies, slowly getting to his feet and tucking his wings into his spine. “Should I have called Lance? How many ambulances and how many fire engines are needed?”

Felicity ends up having to elbow his left wing as he comes up beside her as the vigilante flares and folds it again so it falls more comfortably against his back, but ends up gently smacking her in the face so she gets a mouthful of feathers. He shoots her an apologetic look before returning his attention to the white box, narrowing his eyes suspiciously and sniffing.

“I did not cook,” she promises. “So no ambulances or fire engines necessary. I did, however, bake. Cooking and baking are very different things, I’m just discovering. Cooking is more experimental and about the combination of different flavors and textures… baking is chemistry. Chemistry is something I can do. I got an A+ in it at high school.”

“Is there anything you didn’t get an A+ in at high school?” Oliver asks, amused.

“I got a C in physical education. And there was that one time I got a B in philosophy and ethics because my misogynist male teacher didn’t like how I sassed him in an essay about how our patriarchal society infringes on women’s rights.” She waves her hand dismissively. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I _baked!_ And it turns out that I’m actually decent at baking when I’m using one of those boxed dry cake mixes. You just add water and oil and eggs, beat it all together and whack it into the oven at a pre-set temperature… and pray. An absolute miracle occurred in my kitchen last night. The fire alarm didn’t even go off.”

“You baked a cake?” Oliver sounds surprised.

She grins, smug and pleased with herself and at his shocked reaction. “I did! Cupcakes. I thought you might want to be my first taste tester.”

Oliver stills and stares at her. He’s fixing her with that expression he’s been getting a lot lately - the same look he gave her when she dyed her hair, upgraded the Foundry and got caught singing and dancing by him. Felicity doesn’t know precisely what to make of it.

“You baked cupcakes,” Oliver says slowly. “For me to taste.”

“You shouldn’t get food poisoning or anything,” Felicity tells him, worried that the strange tone of his voice might be due to fear that her abysmal skills in the kitchen will result in him getting sick. She opens the cake box up to reveal the cupcakes - vanilla with chocolate icing. “I mean, the actual cupcakes themselves are a little overbaked, so the flour and eggs and stuff definitely won’t be raw. And the icing is just powdered sugar, butter, and chocolate.”

Oliver nods and plucks one of the cupcakes from the box, examining it carefully before stripping off the casing and taking a huge bite. Felicity watches him chew, biting her lip nervously. She’s not expecting the cupcakes to be amazing, but she’s hoping they’re at least good. For good measure, she observes his wings as well - the little minuscule movements they make are usually very good indicators for when he’s lying.

“So?” she questions.

“It’s delicious,” he grins.

His primaries and secondaries ruffle; his coverts fluff up.

Oliver’s telling the truth.

She lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah. You can hardly tell they’re from a box mix.”

He finishes off the cupcake, sucking crumbs and icing off his fingertips. Felicity swallows and twitches when a spark of heat ignites inside her at the sight. A little bit of the cake frosting ends up on the vigilante’s nose; Felicity resists the urge to swipe it off with her finger and lick it. Oliver quickly grabs another one of the cupcakes, taking the casing off and then holding it out for the blonde, offering it to her. Surprised and taken back, Felicity leans forward so she can take a bite - desperately trying not to think about the fact that Oliver is currently feeding her - and is astonished and delighted to find that the cupcake actually does taste quite nice. The chocolate icing is achingly sweet but balances out the milder vanilla flavor of the cake itself.

She peers up to see Oliver smiling at her. “You have frosting on your nose.”

“You do as well,” Felicity laughs.

Felicity swipes the icing off the vigilante’s skin with her thumb and, maintaining intense eye contact with him, places the digit into her mouth. A resounding rumble erupts from Oliver’s chest; a deep, pleasured purr that she’s learned is how he expresses his arousal. Instead of following her example and using a finger to clean the chocolate frosting off her face, Oliver swoops down and kisses her nose, using his lips to collect the icing on his tongue. Felicity barely suppresses her whimper.

“Not fair.” The pair of words pass her lips before she can stop them, coming out as nothing more than a whisper.

Oliver smirks, his wings rising behind him a couple of inches. “You bought cupcakes with spreadable chocolate icing for me, knowing that we’re not going to have the chance to be alone tonight since Dig is coming in,” he murmurs. “ _That’s_ unfair.”

* * *

**5: Wing Maintenance**

“Oh my god, you’re _filthy_. How the hell did you get this dirty fighting Triad goons down at the docks?”

Felicity stands horrified with her arms crossed over her chest, examining Oliver from head to toe as he sulks near the back of the Foundry. The answer to her question is pretty obvious - the winged vigilante somehow got shoved into the water - because his wings are dripping wet, with seaweed strands and large clumps of mud and moss woven between his twisted and ruffled feathers. Diggle, who is finding this whole situation hilarious, is laying towels down on the floor underneath Oliver’s wings to try and mop up the sea water.

“At least we know for sure now that the part bird that Oliver is in his DNA isn’t of the semi-aquatic kind,” Diggle snickers.

Oliver scowls at him, his wet wings bristling. He hastily begins stripping off his leather jacket and pants, wincing as they peel off his skin due to also being soaked through. Diggle heads to the front of the Foundry as soon as he spots Oliver shedding clothes, leaving Felicity to deal with him. She sighs. The vigilante is in a foul mood and is undoubtedly annoyed that the Triad men he was combating managed to get away - and also irritated beyond hell that he ended up taking an unexpected dip into Starling harbor.

She must have said the last sentence aloud, because Oliver hits her with a half-hearted glare, spitting out, “No, I’m not particularly happy at the moment, Felicity. In fact, I’m actually very miserable.”

Felicity rolls her eyes at the flatness of his voice, but also sighs in sympathy. Oliver truly does look dismal. Weighed down by water, his wings droop and slump from his spine, dragging on the floor. Now just wearing his boxers in front of her, she can see that his skin is pale with a very faint blue sheen; he’s shivering, indicating how cold he is.

“Come on.” She holds out her hand to him. He takes it without hesitance. Felicity jumps when she feels how icy his fingers are, and immediately turns to try and rub his hands between her palms to warm them up by improving circulation. “Let’s get you into the shower under some clean, hot water, and then you can lie down and take a nap while I dry, groom and preen your wings for you. How does that sound?”

Oliver stares at her and then says simply, his voice soft and blue eyes gentle, “I love you.”

She smiles. “I love you too. And I would kiss you, but you’re soaked with stinking sea water and smell fishy. Shower first, kissing later.”

The vigilante is clearly exhausted and barely moves beyond shuffling into the shower room, allowing Felicity to guide him. She removes all her clothes and wrestles him out of his wet boxers so they both stand naked under the shower’s hot spray, but there’s nothing sexual about it. Lathering up her hands and Oliver’s torso, she cleans him tenderly, making sure that all of the salty sea water gets washed off him. Oliver basks in her attention, his wings half-flared so he can lean against the shower wall and tilt his head back, eyes closed. Utterly relaxed, he only moves his limbs when Felicity quietly requests him to, having complete and utter trust in her. That’s what really makes this so intimate - not their nakedness, but the fact that Oliver is willing to be so vulnerable around her.

It takes longer for her to wash his wings, soaping up the feathers and trying not to hurt him as she rakes her feathers through the feathers to make sure the shower cream permeates every layer of his plumage. Rinsing the extra limbs off takes time as well, due to the fact she has to keep checking all the suds have been washed out.

Oliver is very nearly boneless when they eventually exit the shower, and drops his head down onto Felicity’s shoulder as she uses half a dozen towels to dry his body and gently rub down his wings. She gets him into dry boxers, a t-shirt, and some tracksuit bottoms before leading him back out into the Foundry.

“Fe-li-ci-ty…” Oliver slurs, when she carefully helps him down onto the training mats, where he lies on his stomach, resting his head on his arms. “Thank… you…”

“You don’t need to thank me for doing this for you, Oliver,” she tells him softly.

She gets him a pillow to hug and then tenderly spreads his damp wings out to full span. Diggle brings over two hairdryers he’s plugged in and helps her dry out the feathers, although he doesn’t actually touch the wings, knowing that Oliver might react badly even in his scarcely conscious state. He stays and helps Felicity until the wings are completely dry, and then retreats when she starts grooming.

Felicity loves grooming and preening Oliver’s wings. It’s become a weekly thing, where they spend a good three hours together alone in the Foundry and she sorts out his feathers. It’s strangely calming for her to run her fingers through his feathers, straightening them out and making sure that they all layer correctly. It’s something she knows that Oliver enjoys as well - he always purrs and sleeps peacefully as she methodically works across his wingspan. Today is no different.

Oliver falls asleep quickly as Felicity strokes over his wings and re-orders all his feathers. Since she has his permission to preen using his natural preening oil, she stimulates the glands at the base of his wings and uses that oil when running her pinches fingers down his feather shafts, waterproofing his plumage. Felicity is well aware that gland stimulation can cause Oliver to become aroused, but he’s deeply unconscious at this point; usually, near the end of the preening process, he would tackle her down to the mats and kiss her senseless, but that’s not going to happen tonight. Felicity smothers the twinge of disappointment she feels with the satisfaction and happiness that she’s helping Oliver with something extremely personal that he fully trusts her with.

She leaves him asleep on the mats when she goes to wash the oily residue off her hands, and to Felicity’s surprise, Oliver is awake when she comes back. His eyes are half-lidded, but they track her movements. He snuffles into his pillow when she gets closer, his wings flexing comfortably.

“S’good courting,” he mumbles, kissing her bare knee when she settles down next to him and pulls his head into her lap.

“Sorry?” she asks, confused. Courting?

“Courtship,” Oliver mutters, burying his head against her stomach. “S’all courtship ritual stuff. You. Really good at it.”

Felicity’s heart pounds in her chest.

Well, then.

She’s certainly got some research to do later tonight.

* * *

**+1: Maiden Flight**

“Any plans this evening?”

Felicity tries to pose the question casually, leaning on the back of her chair she’s sitting in as she looks over at the vigilante. Oliver is sharpening his arrows at his weapons counter - he has been for the last two hours - but glances up sharply, frowning at her query.

She researched bird courtship rituals. Felicity managed to find a very informative scientific article about methods of courting by female birds and was astounded and mortified to discover that a lot of the things she’s been doing recently around and for Oliver count as courtship behavior. She didn’t even know she was doing it; what’s worse is that she doesn’t know whether or not Oliver thinks she’s been doing it on purpose or not. Judging by how he’s been reacting, the winged vigilante thinks all her actions have been deliberate. That just filled her with guilt, so after doing a lot more courtship ritual research at 2am, Felicity found a very specific courting ritual she could initiate between them that the website said might be the most important ritual of them all.

She’s inviting Oliver over to her apartment to stay the night.

“Nothing beyond the usual,” Oliver answers hesitantly, his wings flicking behind him. “I promised Diggle I wouldn’t go out on patrol since he’s busy babysitting his nephew tonight and can’t provide back-up. I was just going to work on crafting some more arrows, making some minor adjustments to my bow, and maybe do a bit of training.”

Felicity nods, acknowledging his words. Then, she stands, brushing herself down and walking assertively over to Oliver. The vigilante cocks his head at her approach and eyes her warily when the blonde places her hands on his shoulders and swivels him around on his stool.

“What -” he starts, but promptly gasps with his eyes slamming shut when Felicity takes a firm hold of the coverts on his right wing, tugging gently on the feathers in a way she knows he likes. It won’t hurt Oliver at all, but the firm pulling sensation will ground him very securely in the present and provide an intense stimulus that will focus him on her. He’s naturally quite submissive towards her, both emotionally and physically, and he always responds well to her being more confident in both areas. “Felicity?”

“If you have no set plans tonight,” she says calmly, “I would like it if you stayed over at my apartment. It’s a dark night - it’s cloudy, there’s low visibility. You won’t be seen flying through the Glades. You can make it to my apartment easily, and leave before dawn. Will you come home with me?”

His eyes grow wide. His pupils dilate and his breath catches in his chest. Oliver is not unaware of the significance of this request. His wings immediately flare in response, feathers puffing out so his wingspan appears as large as it possibly can, before the limbs curl possessively around her.

Oliver’s voice is choked as he murmurs, “Do you know what -”

“Yes,” Felicity interrupts him. “I know what I am asking. I know what it means.” She sets him with a self-assured look. “I am inviting you to come to my apartment and spend the night with me.”

By asking him over to her place, she’s asking him to commit to a maiden flight so he can join her in her nest. It’s a majorly significant part of their courtship.

Felicity doesn’t think she’s ever seen Oliver appear so utterly awed.

He still doesn’t respond. The vigilante has gone silent.

“Oliver?”

“Sorry,” he says, his voice trembling. “I’m just - wrapping my head around -”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Is that a yes?”

“You really think I’m going to say no?” he breathes.

“This is your choice,” Felicity shrugs. “You can join me, if that’s what you want. If you don’t - I’m not going to hold it against you. Just know that while I probably will ask you again, it won’t be for a while.”

Dark green feathers swish around her, sounding eerily like the lashing of ocean waves against a rocky beach. The leading silver edges of Oliver’s primaries shine in the dim lights, the gleam only growing brighter as he arches his wings to flash them. Oliver is presenting himself to her - presenting himself as her courting partner, allowing her to see every part of him, all thirty feet of his wings in all his magnificence and glory. The vigilante’s expression is open and wonderstruck, but the passion behind the reverence is clearly visible. His cobalt eyes pierce into her very soul as he gazes at her earnestly, as if checking to see if this is something she really wants. But Oliver doesn’t need to; Felicity knows what she wants. He just has to answer her question.

“Oliver? I need your decision. Are you going to come home with me tonight?”

“Yes,” he whispers. “Yes.”

She gives him a beaming smile. He’s accepted. He’s going to fly to her apartment and join her in this courting ritual. Stepping back, Felicity offers her hand to him. Oliver’s arm shakes as he takes it. His wings, while remaining spread, flutter behind him in exhilaration as she leads him across the Foundry to the monitor set-up. He waits quietly as she pulls up an aerial view of her apartment so he can locate it when doing a flyover. She tells him that she will be leaving her bedroom window, which leads onto the fire escape, unlocked and open for him so he knows which apartment is hers.

Oliver is vibrating from excitement by the time Felicity picks up her purse and keys, shrugging on her coat. He walks her out to her car. This is going to be the start of his maiden flight; the female of the courting pair leaves first, and the male follows behind closely after. Felicity, of course, doesn’t have wings and can’t fly, so is going to drive back home in her Mini Cooper with Oliver flying above her.

“I’ll see you soon,” she informs him, her voice bold and strong, as she clambers into her car with the window rolled down.

The wind tussling his feathers, Oliver bobs his head in a desperate nod. “Okay,” he replies weakly. He backs away a couple of steps to watch her drive off, running his fingers through his hair as he stares at the ground and fights back the urge to hyperventilate from anticipation.

Felicity watches him carefully for a moment.

“Oliver?” she finally says.

His head whips up. “Yes?”

“I’ll be waiting for you. Don’t take too long.”

He ends up arriving at her apartment five minutes after her. Within seconds of Oliver and Felicity reuniting after his maiden flight, the vigilante is sweeping the blonde into his arms with a possessive growl and walking her through the threshold with her legs wrapped around his waist, one hand buried in his hair and the other in his feathers. He kisses her senseless.

This is courting done right, Felicity thinks dazedly, as Oliver’s lips trail down from her breastbone to even lower.

A blanket of iridescent dark feathers falls over the two of them, keeping them warm despite the blankets and pillows being lost to the floor.

Definitely courting done right.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! hope you enjoyed xx
> 
> tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> twitter: @lexiblackbriar


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